


The Waiting Room

by TheLittleDayDreamer



Series: Nora + Michael [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleDayDreamer/pseuds/TheLittleDayDreamer
Summary: Rosemary Johnson comes to visit Michael in the hospital after he’s been shot. What she doesn’t expect is his new baggage.(This is obviously season four spoilers.)
Relationships: Michael Gray/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Nora + Michael [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1457320
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	The Waiting Room

New Year’s Day, 1927

_  
“Ally, Bally, Ally Bally Bee. Sittin’ oan yer mammy’s knee, greetin fur a wee bawbee…”_

Nora hums, gently bouncing the brunette two-year-old on her knee in an attempt to keep her distracted from the mundane Monday morning. Frail fingers trace across Rosie’s chubby palms as she slowly drifts off, buried into the warmth of her mother’s chest with each breath as they rise and fall, the pair are curled-up in Michael’s larger coat by his hospital bed.

She deeply sighed watching her little one slip into an unconscious state, occasionally brushing a few silky strands back from her plump cheeks. Nora wasn’t as far gone in comparison to her kids and husband but she’d had to admit, the sleepless nights were getting to her. Tripping over her own feet became so common Isaiah would regularly comment on it before receiving a swift skelp to the back of the head. _ She’d give anything to sleep with a decent duvet. _

Bringing up two young children was difficult enough, but to do so confined in your former place of work made it significantly harder. Still, the revolving door of former colleagues and family gave the couple some ease when they’d take them both for either a run in the car or Polly’s case, take them up the road. Despite this, her mother-in-law extended the offer; she couldn’t leave him; _ not even for a warm, peaceful bathe. _

Nora could feel herself nodding off, with the heavy eyelids forcing themselves shut and loosening the slight grip she had on Rosie. There was no fight, no reason to be awake so she gave in to the calling slumber.

“Mummy.” 

“Mhmm?”

“Drink?"

Opening her eyes again, she looks to her son pouting on the hospital bed.

“Magic word?”

“Please?”

“Better.”

* * *

“Ach, cheeky-monkey.” Ethel joshers, pinching at George’s tummy as he pulls away the cup of water on the table he’d teasingly offered to his mother’s friend. “Get that from mum, don’t you?”

She grins again, “This is much more entertaining than my 12:00.”

_ Flick! _

Sitting opposite, Nora internally chuckles. Though is more concerned with the unlit fag she’d nicked from under Michael’s pillow hanging on her lips, as she tediously attempts to retrive any whisp of a flame from his engraved lighter. Nauseating light, and minimal rest proved to be quite the competitors. 

_ Flick! _

“Jesus_ fucking _Christ.”

The midwife retains her attention on the giggling blonde two-year-old, not wishing to be in the Glaswegian’s firing-line when she realises her lighter might be empty.

Ethel didn’t have any children of her own, she was only twenty-three and after seeing Nora’s position being taken, almost as quickly as it was given; it scared her. She adored working in the ward, and knew her friend did too. Nevertheless, the side-eye her grandmother had given at dinner last night felt rather telling that like Nora’s had been, her time in the hospital is limited.

_ Whispers _floated around about Francesca’s fertility, Ethel didn’t want to be next.

“Citrus? Still?” She pauses, trying to ignore George grabbing at her golden chain, “Your old uniform, stinks of the stuff, and fags.”

“It wis given tae me, didnae have much else at the time.” Nora exhaled after a drag, thinking of her lost friend. She still had her husband, Esme watched her own bleed-out on their drive. The Scottish girl couldn’t blame Esme for running. Shelby’s brought nothing but trouble. Nora would do the same if given the choice. “Ye make the best of a shite situation.”

Ethel could feel a slight burn in her chest. Staff were well aware of each and every patient who came in and out of the building, this week was no exception as details spread like wildfire; _ John Shelby had been under their roof a matter of minutes before passing with seven penetrating bullets to the chest. _

“How’s he doing?”

“Better than he wis five days ago.”

“That’s good, what about Rosalin?”

“Wee lassie’s been greetin’ aloat but its wit weans dae. Gee’d ‘ere a wee bit ah whisky oan the gums an she wis oot lit a light.”

Ethel raised a brow, deciding not to press.

They sit for a few moments, allowing Nora to actually enjoy a cigarette after battling with her husband’s lighter for ten minutes, just watching a variety of people come in and out of wards, passing the waiting area. Some former friends who would give a passing smile, neighbours doing the same but the vast majority were strangers.

Yet, there was one who stood out. Mid-forties, long thick coat, styled hair with a rather crumpled stature who looked lost as she gripped at the small handbag. 

People in Small Heath didn’t tend to look lost. Conniving, yes but never lost. It was a pretty small place.

Hence, Ethel figured it would be best to step in, “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking,” she hesitated, glancing to both women, the one in uniform and the other smoking in front of a toddler, strangely reminding her of why she was here, “for my son.”

“Ah, and who is your son, exactly?” The nurse cracks a smile at the clearly antsy woman. Unsure if she really belonged here, her clothes were rather, _ vibrant _, for a town that prides itself on their permanent shade of murky ash, and smoke. 

“Henry Johnson.”

She’s quick to respond, “I actually don’t think we have one in here, there-."

“E,” Nora hastily interjects, “Mrs Brown, 12. Remember?”

Ethel rolled her eyes, before begrudgingly getting up, heading down one of the many endless, monochromatic hallways. 

“Yer Rosemary, aren’t ye?”

She nods in response surprised at the strong, foreign accent but she takes a seat next to the ginger girl. “Yes, and you don’t appear to work here, yet…”

“It’s a small world, an ah used tae work here, as a midwife.” Nora explained, observing as the women kept staring at George, unsurprisingly. “Your son, he doesn’t go by-”

“I’m well aware what _ she _called him.”

The young girl was taken aback at Rosemary overt bitterness towards Polly. “It’s jist, if ye dae intend tae find him, folk here ur no gonnae know who yer takin’ aboot.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

No wonder Michael was no longer fond of this woman.

Michael didn’t talk about his former life in the countryside nor was it of any interest to Nora, she never knew _ Henry. _It was hard not to feel a little sympathetic to the situation; she did raise him, gave him a home and love, despite her ignorance.

“Tah.” Nora scoffed, “Am tryin’ tae help ye hen, cause naebody else here would fuckin’ bat an eye fur ye.” 

“Why? You’re a married woman with a child, how do you even know my son?” She pauses briefly before continuing, “unless you’re one of the _ cousins_, is that right? _ Alice, Adie _or something?”

“Ada.”

“So you’re Ada then?”

“How could ah be Ada? Dae ah soond like am fae ‘roon here?”

The elder women begins clobbering out of her seat. “Are you going to take me to my son, or am I going to have to find him?”

“Double-doors, four doon. Enjoy.”

* * *

“Ah know yer tired honey-bun,” Nora soothes her pouting son, gently rocking him back and forth, “but Nana’s in the car to take you home and she’ll tuck ye in tonight.”

“No, you.” He softly whines, rubbing the wet sleep from his eyes, “want, you to, and daddy.”

“Ach, soon. I promise.” 

Nora braces herself before re-entering the vacant ward, pushing the swinging doors open with her back. 

Rosemary Johnson hadn’t been here long, but she dreaded turning to the scene before her. Considering, The woman was obviously none-the-wiser to her own _ son’s _ child sitting beside her earlier. 

She turns to her perplexed, though it seemingly grows to a warm smile, still the ginger’s only here to hand the kids over to Polly, not make friends. Besides, making the matriarch wait was a recipe for disaster. “Need Rosie. Car’s waiting.”

“Who?” Michael asks, carefully shifting his sleeping daughter over his chest, as Nora takes her on the opposite side to her son, with Rosie resting on her shoulder.

She bit her lip, not looking to create anymore tension.

"Nonie..."

“A-Arthur, Linda offered.” 

_ Liar. _

“-and you’re letting Arthur, drive, two toddlers?” 

“Could be worse. Could be Finn, or Isaiah,”

_ Technically true. _

“...right. Just make sure he’s sober.”

“I don’t know, Linda makes it pretty hard…”

Michael chuckles at his wife’s teasing, “shut up.”

Nora glances at Rosemary, still watching intently then heads out the door.

A small voice can be overheard, as Michael catches George waving through the gap of the closing door. "Na-night daddy!"

**“You should keep a hold of that one.”**


End file.
